


Shootus Interruptus

by winged_mammal



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winged_mammal/pseuds/winged_mammal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times sex didn't go at all the way Shaw planned. (Root's only mostly to blame.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shootus Interruptus

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Shootus Interruptus(Chinese Translation/大车的译文)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7496721) by [blankV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankV/pseuds/blankV)



> Sex isn't always a carefully written smutfic, sometimes shit happens. I've wanted to include some of these in my stories for a while now, especially the first one, so I decided to put them all together into this.

It’s kind of ridiculous, Shaw thinks, how many times they’ve had sex without even getting each other naked. It seems it's the price to pay when on the run from a malevolent artificial superintelligence and the only free time available for hanky panky comes during the odd lull during a mission - and even then, they were lucky to be able to even get in a good rut against each others’ leg in a dark corner of an alleyway. Shaw was only too eager to see Samaritan go, if for no other reason than it having been the most powerful cockblock she’d ever encountered.

Well that, and the revenge aspect. That was a pretty powerful motivator. 

But now, Samaritan is gone, Root is moaning against her lips in the privacy of her own apartment, and Shaw is all too eager to hear her let loose all the sounds she’d heard the promise of during their previous encounters. Her hands rid them both of the clothing above their waists as Root walks them back to the bedroom, stumbling into the walls and each other along the way, each pause growing in length as they become increasingly lost in the sensation of the other’s lips and teeth along their skin.

When at last they reach the edge of Shaw’s bed, she pushes Root onto its surface and tugs off her boots before doing the same with her own. Root scrambles to situate herself and Shaw watches as her hips rise into the air, her fingers fumbling at the closure of her jeans and pushing them down the length of her legs, her eyes never straying from watching as Shaw strips herself of the rest of her clothing. Shaw glances at the undisguised lust on Root’s face and can’t bring herself to care that she is exhibiting the same expression - there’s a time for chill and a time for action, and Shaw has no doubt which of them is called for when a body like Root’s is waiting for her.

She swings a leg over Root’s hips, a knee on either side of her, and Root promptly pulls her down for another searing kiss. Hands dig into Shaw’s ass as one of her own palms Root’s breast and a hiss escapes from between Root’s lips. Shaw moves to bite at the skin below her good ear and is rewarded with a low moan and nails clawing at her back, and when she discovers the way Root cries out and arches her back when her nipples are bitten, Shaw lets out a groan and devotes the next several minutes to hearing that sound as much as possible.

Root’s hips press up into hers, seeking relief from the pressure building within her, and she begs Shaw with a reverent whisper. “Sameen…” 

Shaw hauls herself up to press her lips against Root’s and adjusts her position to put one of her legs between both of Root’s. Her hand wanders up Root’s thigh and she pulls back from the kiss so as to not block what will surely be an intoxicating moan when she slips inside Root for the first time. The first two fingers of her hand press together, Shaw licks her lips and drags her fingers between Root’s legs and - 

“What the hell, Root?” Shaw pulls back, brow furrowed, and props herself up on her free hand.

Root looks lost for a moment, then her eyes clear slightly of their fog. “What?”

Shaw pointedly runs a finger along its previous path, encountering a small amount of moisture only when she presses just inside. “Something not doing it for you?”

“Oh.” Root’s chest heaves, still lost in arousal. “I've just… never been one to get very wet. It’s fine, just get some lube.” She reaches her hands up and pulls Shaw in by the neck for another kiss.

“Root,” Shaw warns, muffled against her lips. Root tries to wrap a leg across Shaw’s ass and Shaw manages to pull away, squinting down at her. “I don’t _have_ any lube.”

A look of confusion comes over Root's face as she struggles to re-engage her brain. Her forehead wrinkles and she blinks up at Shaw. “You don’t -”

“It hasn’t exactly been necessary.” Shaw grinds herself onto Root’s thigh and Root moans at the slick sensation against her skin.

“I think I’m flattered, Sameen,” Root breathes, moving her hands to Shaw’s hips to hold her steady as she rocks her leg against her. “None of my _other_ partners ever got that wet for me.” Root notices the flash of irritation in Shaw’s eyes at that, and offers her an insufferable grin. She pats her hip in a placating gesture. “I’d say you’re plenty wet for the both of us.”

Root takes one of Shaw’s hands by the wrist and makes to guide it between Shaw’s legs before Shaw realizes what she means. “Forget it, Root,” she says, shaking her hand free. “Secondhand lube isn’t going to cut it.”

“Has in the past,” Root pouts, looking for all the world like a dog being denied a treat.

“ _Tissue damage_ , Root. Not happening.” Shaw frowns down at her. “And I really hope you had conversations with these previous conquests of yours about STI statuses before sharing fluids.”

Affection shines in Root’s eyes as she takes in Shaw’s stern expression. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Shaw.” She leans up to peck Shaw’s cheek, ignoring the scowl as she falls back onto the bed and snakes a hand between their bodies. “Fine,” she huffs, tracing a path along Shaw’s hip. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have any fun with you, though.”

Shaw’s eyes follow her movements for a moment before abruptly taking Root’s wrist in her hand and pressing it against the bed. Root looks up at her and sees the renewed lust in her eyes and shivers when Shaw leans down to nip at her neck.

“I’m buying a giant fucking thing of lube tomorrow,” Shaw says, and Root can’t help but smile. “A lot of them, probably, and I’m going to keep them in every place I can think where I could possibly need it. And after I get that lube,” Shaw shifts to murmur into Root’s ear, her thigh pressing between her legs. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll be glad to have it.”

Root whimpers and cants her hips up into Shaw, her hand freeing itself from Shaw’s grasp to dance along her inner thigh. “Sameen, please…”

“In the meantime,” Shaw smirks, knocking Root’s hand away, “I’ve still got a perfectly good tongue, don’t I?”

~~~

Shaw buys lube.

Shaw buys a rather excessive amount of lube, if she’s being honest, but she did always believe in being prepared. There’s the simple, flavorless water-based version with a soap-style dispensing pump to keep by the bed for easy access, of course. Plus the smaller tubes of it to stash by the couch and in the subway station. Then there’s the small bottle of bacon-flavored lube she picks up on a whim, just to see Root’s reaction. The placard next to the display of silicone-based lubricants advertising their merits for the art of fisting catches Shaw’s eye, as does the sign giving advice on what to use for anal play. Shaw’s thoughts spiral into the gutter for long moments, until a passing shop clerk asks if she needs any help and she growls at her, dropping a couple tubes of each into the basket at her feet.

She tells herself she’s not preparing for this to be a long term thing, that they’ve just got a lot of sex to catch up on, but as she finds herself carefully considering whether or not Root has any ingredient sensitivities and buying backups for most of her choices just in case, she realizes she lost any hope at maintaining distance a long time ago.

So, Shaw buys a lot of lube.

All the same, it’s nearly three weeks before she gets the chance to use any of it.

The Machine sends Root off to the Baltics for ten days starting the morning of Shaw’s shopping spree, Shaw and Reese get a number that drags them all across the Plains (Shaw shoots him in the foot for making her look at so much fucking _corn_ ), Finch drags Root with him to check up on the Machine’s new server farm, Shaw gets caught up taking down drug lords with Harper - and in between, they only have time enough to patch each other up and get back to their old tricks in hidden corners. Which, after finally seeing Root naked, is so far from satisfying that Shaw is reconsidering Samaritan’s title as biggest cockblock in history.

Fucking Machine.

It’s been nearly ten hours now since Root sent her a message saying she was boarding her flight from Zurich back to New York; ten hours in which Shaw has shot at a few people, eaten a disappointing ribeye, endured Reese’s jokes about blue balls before throwing Bear’s tennis ball at his face, and glared at the Knicks game while fighting off very welcome images of Root splayed out before her in the cabin of a private jet. Ten hours, and Root _said_ she was coming straight back to Shaw’s apartment so if the goddamn Machine gave her another mission before Shaw got the chance to - 

A key scratches at Shaw’s lock - a key she doesn’t completely remember actually giving Root - and Shaw has turned off the television and come around the corner to the door just as Root makes her way inside and drops her bag. Her hair is disheveled from sleeping on the plane, glasses frame her face in lieu of her usual contacts, and as Root smiles at the sight of her something snaps inside Shaw.

“Hi, swee-” Root begins, but is cut off as Shaw shoves her against the door and presses a kiss to her lips. Root makes a small sound of surprise but matches Shaw’s enthusiasm just as readily, both of their hands working at the others’ clothing, nails tearing at exposed skin, the kiss becoming sloppy in their passion but neither can bring themselves to care.

“Three weeks, Root,” Shaw grumbles against Root’s skin, shoving her sweatpants down her legs as Root uses her as a balance while taking off her shoes.

Root’s fingers dance at the zipper on her jeans and she moans as Shaw’s hands cover her breasts. “I know,” she breathes, and Shaw bites down hard at the skin just below her collarbone.

“Three _fucking_ weeks.” She helps Root shimmy out of her jeans and lets her hands linger as she drags Root’s underwear down her legs. “Your Machine couldn’t have waited a couple hours before shipping you off?”

“Duty calls, Sameen,” Root singsongs between breathless kisses, both of them now blissfully naked and stumbling down the hall. Root lets herself fall back onto the middle of the bed and as Shaw pauses to tie her hair back, Root’s eyes alight upon the bottle sitting on the bedside table and her lips pull into an anticipatory smile. “You’ve been stocking up, I see.”

Shaw follows Root’s gaze for a moment before turning her attention back to the inviting sight on the bed before her. “You have no idea,” she says, and settles her body over Root’s. Her skin blazes with heat and Shaw welcomes the burn of Root’s nails across her back as her teeth leave marks along Root’s neck and chest, relishing every sound she draws out as she pulls Root further and further out of control.

“I think you promised me something last time we did this, sweetie,” Root says, her innocent tone belied by the way her hips undulate pleadingly against Shaw’s thigh.

Root cries out as Shaw bites down hard on a nipple, smirking at the way her back arches and her hands tremble. “I should make you wait.” 

Shaw’s hand reaches over to the bottle waiting on the table and pumps a decent amount onto her fingers, the action not escaping Root’s attention and she smirks. “You won’t, though.”

“No,” Shaw agrees, but squints at her anyway.

The bed shifts as Shaw sits up and Root spreads her legs to let her settle between them. “You need this as much as I do.”

Shaw shrugs. “I could take it or leave it.” She’s fairly certain that she’d combust if she doesn’t get inside Root in the next two minutes, and that Root is fully aware of that fact, but still. No need to tell her. She spreads the lube around her fingers and leans forward slightly, her hand inching ever closer to Root.

A fingertip circles around Root’s clit for a few moments, eliciting a sharp intake of breath that Shaw imagines bodes well, before it draws down and pauses as Shaw raises her eyebrow in question.

Root nods and shifts her legs a little more, and with that, Shaw pushes her finger inside and _fuck_ , this was worth the wait. Root’s entire body arches against the bed and she’s unbelievably hot and tight and clenching against Shaw’s finger and if she’s already like this when she’s barely even started fucking her then Shaw doesn’t know how either of them are going to manage to survive.

She thrusts inside her slowly a few times, letting the lube do its job before withdrawing and spreading more along the length of her first two fingers and pressing them both back inside. Root shudders and moans and Shaw leans back over her, following the vibrations in Root’s throat with her tongue as she starts a steady rhythm of thrusts that has Root clenching against her all the while.

Root’s nails dig into her shoulders and she bares her throat in a long moan when Shaw curls her fingers inside her, pressing against her g-spot briefly before resuming her thrusts. Shaw smirks against Root’s throat and lets herself grind against Root’s thigh as she fucks her, the sounds and the heat and the writhing all too delicious for her to ignore. Her fingers flick upward again on her inward thrusts, striking the same spot over and over and Root gives her the most pathetically wanton whimpers she’s heard in her life.

“Fuck,” Shaw hears, and she grins to herself before she realizes that hadn’t been a lusty expression of pleasure, but more of an exasperated venting of frustration. She looks up at Root and sees her eyes wrenched shut in annoyance even as her hand comes to wrap around Shaw’s wrist to stall her movements.

“What?” Shaw asks, glancing down at their hands. “Not enough lube?”

Root shakes her head and pulls Shaw’s hand away. “No, it was perfect.” Her eyes open and she scrunches her face, apology written all over it. “So, you know how I knew you wanted me to get home from my mission as soon as possible so we could have this lovely time together?”

Shaw’s eyes narrow at her choice of words, but she nods slowly in agreement. “And…?”

“I… may have forgotten to pee when I got off the plane after that nine hour flight.” Root shirks slightly under Shaw’s blank stare and runs her hands along Shaw’s arms. “And I’m not going to be able to ignore it if you keep doing that, and I really, _really_ want you to keep doing that so if we could just… hit pause for a second and I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Shaw shifts slightly and continues to stare down at Root, whose smile falters a little before she kisses Shaw’s cheek and wriggles out from under her. She pads to the bathroom and when Shaw hears the door close behind her, she lets herself collapse against the bed and buries her face in the pillow.

Fucking Machine.

~~~

Root’s next mission for the Machine only has her going as far as New Jersey, which Shaw takes satisfaction in as some kind of cosmic punishment for making Shaw wait even longer than necessary to learn what she feels like when she comes. (Incredible, by the way, is the answer to that question. Root’s body has a way of making Shaw feel consumed by her heat and it only took one hit for her to become addicted.)

So it’s only a day and a half later that Shaw wakes from a nap on her couch, having enjoyed a pleasant dream involving Root, some rope, and a few choice toys, to find the woman in question standing beside her with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Miss me?” Root flirts, letting Shaw sit up a little before she joins her on the couch, straddling her lap. She’s wearing a loose-fitting dress, showing off the sun-kissed skin of her shoulders, and Shaw catches a glimpse of the pale flesh of her thighs as she settles the dress around her.

Shaw doesn’t resist the impulse to slide her hands under the dress and explore that skin with her fingertips. “Hard to miss you when you’ve barely been gone.”

Root hums and leans down to kiss her, more gently than they have in the past, but Shaw indulges her. She’s only just woken up, she figures she’s allowed to be sluggish in her movements. Her fingertips brush against Root’s underwear and she smirks into the kiss when Root twitches at the touch, and Root nips at her tongue in admonishment.

“It’s not nice to tease,” she says, and Shaw snorts.

“Interesting words, coming from you.” She deepens the kiss for a moment before breaking away and bringing her hands out from underneath the dress to settle on Root’s chest. “But who said I was teasing?”

Her fingers slip under the straps of the dress and slide them off Root’s shoulders, and Root raises her arms enough to let the dress fall down her torso, exposing her breasts. Shaw sits up, a hand at the small of Root’s back for balance, and brings her mouth to the closest nipple. Root’s breath hitches as her teeth graze around it and Shaw’s other arm wraps around her chest to hold her in place as she lavishes attention on the soft skin at her lips.

Root’s hips thrust in idle, shallow circles against hers, and as Shaw switches her attention to her other breast, the hand at Root’s waist works its way beneath the dress and rubs at her clit through her underwear. Hands tangle in Shaw’s hair and press her harder against her chest and she feels the moans work their way out of Root’s throat as the bites at her breast become harder and deeper.

There’s a clatter at the table behind Shaw’s head as Root falls forward a little and she tears her mouth away when Root presses something into her chest.

“I love your foresight,” Root breathes, and Shaw lets out a laugh when realizes she’s found one of the tubes of lube she’d stashed around the apartment. She takes the hint and pulls her hand out from under the dress, Root wasting no time in squeezing some out onto her fingers and spreading it around for her.

Root’s head falls back and her spine arches into her as Shaw’s hand snakes beneath her underwear and her fingers slip inside with one slow, careful thrust. Her walls flutter against Shaw’s fingers and they both let out small sounds of pleasure at her movements. 

“You’re not gonna make me stop because you forgot to piss again, are you?” 

Shaw’s mouth has moved back to play at Root’s breasts, and she feels Root shake her head. “Scout’s honor.”

“Good,” Shaw murmurs, and promptly begins fucking her in earnest. Root shouts out and her hands scramble for purchase at her shoulders at the curl of Shaw’s fingers, striking that spot inside her with every thrust of a rhythm that leaves no room for mercy. A litany of curses falls from Root’s lips and her hips work circles around Shaw’s hand, seeking out more than Shaw can properly give her with this angle so she wraps an arm around her waist and tips her back onto the opposite end of the couch in one movement, the fingers inside her scarcely hesitating in their motion.

Shaw’s body covers Root’s, angled to allow her arm enough room to put muscle into her thrusts. Root’s chest heaves as she loses herself in the fire of Shaw’s touch and Shaw’s mouth leaves a haphazard trail of marks across her shoulders and chest, tasting Root’s pleasure in her sweat and the pulse of blood she can feel at her lips and fuck, she needs to get her mouth on her.

Root whines when Shaw pulls back, but her lust-darkened eyes light up when she sees Shaw’s intent and her hips lift to help her move the tangled dress out of the way and pull her underwear down her thighs.

A gleam of red catches Shaw’s eye, and she pauses her movements to get a better look at her hand. “Oh for fuckssake,” she growls, and Root lifts her head in question at the hold up.

“What?”

Shaw raises her hand and wiggles her fingers in the air, her skin coated in lube mixed with oxidized blood. “You couldn’t have warned me this was coming around?”

“Oh.” Root’s brow furrows. “What’s today?”

“The twenty-eighth,” Shaw says, even as she knows the Machine is supplying Root with the same information. She wipes her fingers off on Root’s thigh.

“It’s early then.” Root shrugs. “But its calendar has never been that great, anyway.”

“They have pills for that, you know.”

Root smiles at Shaw and pats her leg. “Our lifestyle doesn’t really lend itself to keeping up a regular schedule of pill-taking, Sameen. And I’m too gay to want to bother trying anyway.”

Shaw rolls her eyes at Root’s wink and contemplates the scene before her. Root’s chest dotted with blooming bite marks, her breasts heaving invitingly with her slightly calmed breathing. The spot of blood on her thigh and the underwear pulled halfway down her legs. The lube tossed aside on the floor next to them. Her own still potent desire to taste Root’s orgasm.

Her eyes flick up to meet Root’s, and Root bites her lip.

“Ugh, whatever,” she says, and tears Root’s underwear away, bends down, and buries her face between her legs.

~~~

“ _Fuck_ , Root,” Shaw groans, and Root lets out a throaty chuckle and murmurs against Shaw’s neck.

“Come on, Sameen. Give me one more.”

Shaw’s hands push against the headboard and her hips arch into the air as Root’s fingers guide her to her peak, fire and sparks racing along her nerves and finding an outlet only in Shaw’s moans. Root shifts to press her lips to Shaw’s, capturing the sounds and humming in pleasure against them as her movements inside Shaw slow their pace.

The heat in Shaw’s blood still courses through her, and her muscles tighten around Root’s withdrawing hand in protest. She growls at her and seizes her wrist. “Don’t stop.”

Root’s eyebrow quirks and she pushes back inside but otherwise remains unmoving. “Still haven’t had enough, Shaw?” She pecks Shaw’s lips and gazes down at her. “I knew I was good, but five in one go and you still want more? I should write a manual.”

“Yeah, Root, you’re the best I’ve ever had, I’ve forgotten the names of everyone else I’ve ever slept with, your name will go down in history, whatever.” Shaw’s hips jerk and she glares up at Root. “Less talking, more fucking.”

“Anything for you, sweetie,” Root smiles, and adds a fourth finger before resuming her relentless pace.

Shaw’s head falls back and she laughs from the sheer pleasure of it all, her body writhing beneath Root’s on the sweat-soaked sheets. Root trails down her body and presses her mouth to her clit as her fingers continue working inside her, and her elbow brushes against the fresh bullet graze on Shaw’s thigh but the flash of pain only serves to make her moan and pull Root’s head closer to her.

Root’s tongue flicks against her clit at a pace matching that of her fingers for a few moments before wrapping her lips around it. A hand wanders up to her throat and Shaw is so fucking full, so fucking wet and trembling and on fire and _full_ and she knows she’s close again already and knows just as well that it’s still not going to be enough and just needs that little bit _more_ and why the _fuck_ is Root slowing down?

“What the fuck, Root?” Shaw’s chest heaves as she catches her breath, glaring at Root as she sits up and pulls her fingers out of her.

“Sorry, Sam,” she winces, stretching out her hand and rubbing her wrist. “Got a cramp.”

Shaw stares blankly at her. “A cramp.”

“Well, we have been going at it for a while now.”

“Please,” Shaw scoffs. “It’s barely been an hour. I was working on you for twice that just yesterday.”

“ _You_ ,” Root says, and flicks Shaw’s clit as she would a troublesome insect, “had breaks. I’ve been going nonstop because _someone’s_ an insatiable hedonist.”

Shaw shrugs, unrepentant. “You knew what you were getting into.” Her chin lifts and she takes Root’s hand. “Now about getting into things…”

“Still sore, Shaw.” Root’s hand drops to Shaw’s stomach and Shaw huffs. “Sorry we can’t all do a thousand curls a day.”

“I do not do a thousand curls a day.”

“Well, sorry I lose count while I watch you do however many curls you _do_ do a day, then.” Root winks and Shaw grunts, a hand grasping her by the back of the neck and pulling her close.

“Listen, Root.” Her eyes flash and Root’s slick hand slips along her side. “Did you or did you not say that you wouldn’t stop until I couldn’t take any more?”

“Sounds like something I would say,” Root agrees.

Shaw’s eyebrows raise to emphasize her point. “Well I’m not done. So I suggest you either switch hands, or you break out the strap-on, because we’re not stopping until you’ve kept your promise.”

Root searches Shaw’s face and drops a kiss on her lips before drawing back and giving an exaggerated shake of her left hand. She snakes it in between their bodies and slips three fingers easily inside Shaw, bending over her on her right elbow as Shaw sighs in satisfaction.

“I’m saving the strap-on for when _this_ hand cramps,” she says, and gives a forceful curl of her fingers.

Shaw shudders at the sensation, the fire building up once more. “Good choice.”

~~~

Harold Finch has learned more about his friends than he can safely say he ever wanted to. 

A large part of that is due to the simple fact that he is most often the man at the other end of the commlink, and even covert operatives tend to forget he’s there and talk to themselves about whatever inane thoughts cross their mind on a stakeout. But it’s astounding - and not a little disturbing - what he learns when he’s surrounded by highly trained spies and ex-military personnel who apparently view the subway station as a barracks of sorts and lose any sense of personal boundaries when forced to spend a night there.

He can’t count the number of times he’s found Bear tearing apart a forgotten pair of someone’s underwear. 

Still, there is a line. And the various bottles of personal lubricants that he’s found hidden away in various places in the station come very close to crossing it. He’s tried his best to ignore them, but the one at his desk keeps reappearing in different drawers and in the face of such glaring evidence it’s hard to avoid the fact that _someone_ keeps repeatedly violating his space.

He has his suspicions, but all things considered, Finch supposes they’ve earned a respite. For a little while longer, at least.

Bear presently bounds down the stairs into the station ahead of him, and between his barks at a rat skirting along a wall and his own distraction at the files in his hands, Finch doesn’t suspect anything untoward until he rounds the corner and nearly runs into a heaving tangle of limbs and naked flesh.

“Oh good lord,” Finch startles, dropping his paperwork and promptly turning back around the corner. The sight sears itself into his eyes, Root pressed against the wall and wrapped around Shaw, whose hands - well, it was a compromising position, suffice to say.

He hears Shaw growl from the other side of the support column. “I’ve had enough of these fucking interruptions.”

Root makes a sound that Finch really doesn’t want to put a word to, and his eyes fall to the floor in search of his files. One of the tubes of lube lies by his foot and he impulsively kicks it toward the women, clearing his throat. “Miss Shaw… Miss Groves…” He pauses and hears no reply, other than wet sounds that he really has no business ever hearing in his life. “Perhaps you might consider… relocating to another area of the station.”

He hears a gasp and a satisfied hum, then Shaw calls out to him. “Sorry Finch, not gonna happen. You do whatever you need to do, we’ll be right over here for a while.”

“We _were_ here first, Harry,” Root says - moans, more like, and Finch could happily have lived without ever hearing her say his name in that tone of voice.

Finch looks past the column obstructing their view of him, toward the safe haven of the subway car and its closeable doors. He looks back behind him at the exit and hesitates, thinking of the research he still has to do for John’s number. The files scattered between him and the other side of the column seem to mock him in the dull light of the station, and he glances forlornly at them before Root lets out another moan and makes his decision for him.

He raises his jacket to cover his head and sprints toward the subway car doors, humming loudly to himself to block out the noise. As he turns to press the door close button he notices what must be at least half of their clothing strewn on the floor in the doorway, and slides it over the threshold with his toe before closing the doors.

Blissful silence follows and he breathes a sigh of relief. He knows who’s been leaving unspeakable things all over the station now, but mostly he just regrets ever wondering. The cabinet in the corner draws his eye, and he makes his way over to pull out the earmuffs John keeps stored there with his spare rifle scopes.

As he’s about to pull them on, Finch hears what can only be the sound of two bodies collapsing into a heap on the floor, followed by a lot of cursing. He takes an instinctive step toward the door before remembering what lies beyond it, and as the earmuffs close over his ears the last thing he hears is Shaw grumbling at Root.

“I swear to god Root, if you’ve broken my wrist, I’m never having sex with you again.”


End file.
